


A Tale From Up High

by Vio (VyeOh)



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Elf Welsknight, Fae Tango, Fantasy, Gen, High Fantasy, Necromancer ZombieCleo, Not Beta Read, Prose Poem, Team ZIT, a few friends read the first half, idk how to do gen relationship tags lol, more characters to be added as story progresses, sky islands au, thats a lie, theres a flying whale at some point, this is my first fanfic on here idk how to tag uhhhh, very little plot, very pretentious
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:48:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26424388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VyeOh/pseuds/Vio
Summary: There's a story that's been passed down from generation to generation, first through oral tradition and written down centuries prior. Now, it's been entrusted to you, dear reader.There was a world in the sky once, yunno. A society that flew above the clouds. Perhaps these stories are all they left behind, but here they are, bestowed upon you.
Relationships: Joe Hills & FalseSymmetry, Joe Hills & ImpulseSV, Joe Hills & Tango Tek, Joe Hills & Welsknight, Joe Hills & Zedaph, Joe Hills & ZombieCleo, Tango Tek & Zedaph (Video Blogging RPF), impulseSV & Tango Tek & Zedaph (Video Blogging RPF), impulseSV & Tango Tek (Video Blogging RPF), impulseSV & Zedaph (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	A Tale From Up High

Once upon a time ( _or was it?_ ), was a place far from here. The exact distance isn’t known; some even say that “far from here” references a distance from our reality and plane of existence, that this is a world that branched off from our own eons prior on the perpetually moving thread of time. 

But I digress. ( _It’s not important._ )

What is important is that this world, this universe, whose land was shattered and lifted into the clouds long before anyone could recall, harbored life. This, in itself, was significant. After all, anything that fights tooth and nail to survive—even thrive—in an atmosphere so harsh and cold and thin is substantial, is it not? Even negating the inherent value of life, something so hardy and determined should be recognized.

And recognized it shall be. In a small corner of the world, far from the perceived center of this peculiar universe, resides a man. He’s an unremarkable man at first glance; blue shirt, dark hair, beaten and smudged glasses. At his side is a beaten notebook, filled with musings, observations, and poetry. However, as with seemingly all things here, the beauty and wonder lie below the surface. One can only hope to traverse this land while in possession of a yearning for adventure and a sharp-eyed gleam for innovation, and our intrepid protagonist is no different. 

For many years now, our world-weary friend has hopped from island to island, accompanied only by his equally world-weary steed, a behemoth, cetacean creature with enormous wings of membrane and bone. It’s thought that the silhouette of the ‘sky whale,’ as it’s known, was the origin of the myth of the dragon. (Of course, this world is mostly considered a myth as well, so there’s no telling if the myths are myths at all). It soars through the sky with surprising grace, seemingly unhindered by its size, even while carrying passengers and cargo alike—truly a gentle giant. 

In his decades of travel, the man has met with many a friend and foe. (‘Tis the “job,” if you will, of a nomad, to collect not only objects but experiences as well.) Of all the people (term: people used loosely) he’s met and laughed with, fought both alongside and against, a few stand out from the crowd. 

First: a woman with blazing red hair and a collection of what appears to be hastily sewn together scars adorning her blue-green tinted skin. They crossed paths in one of the rare city islands. She was engaged in a job for a client in the wealthier part of the city. The two of them struck up a conversation that night, and the woman explained with a smirk that she was a necromancer of sorts. With a book of spells and a healthy disregard for the natural laws of the universe, she could reanimate the dead and breathe life into the inanimate. 

The two of them grew to enjoy each other’s company during the few days they were both in town. After all, being in a sea of unfamiliar bodies is a lonely experience, and one these adventurers could elude in each other’s presence. Unfortunately, the call of the unexplored lands rang loud in both of their minds. The man presented his new friend with one of the artifacts from his collection: a prototype communicator of sorts, powered by magic long left in the past (or was it science? It’s often hard to tell, in this world). With the counsel of this physical promise to keep in touch, the friends parted ways. 

After that, the dark-haired adventurer flew for many days among the clouds. It’s a good feeling to know that you have an excess of time and no obligations that need to be met. It was just the man and his whale, leisurely cruising through the expansive void of the sky. 

The next stop the adventurer made was to, at first glance, a seemingly deserted island. Lush green trees lined golden fields of grass. The fields, in turn, were cut through by rivers that rushed and danced through the earth. The natural landscape of the island was dotted with various ruins. Stone walls covered with moss and pillars serving as a stairway for vines—nature herself was reclaiming the scars of a former civilization. 

It wasn’t until the 4th day of wandering that our adventurer (quite literally) ran into a man in a brown sweater, with a boyish grin and a head of unruly hair the color of barley. The man explained with big, waving hand motions that he was a researcher of the ancient sciences. This planet, he claimed, was filled to the _brim_ with knowledge to be learned and relics to be found, and he and two other researcher friends were _determined_ to uncover it all!

That night, the fair-haired man introduced his new dark-haired friend to his traveling companions. One was in a clearing tinkering with some kind of trinket and taking notes in a nearby leatherbound notebook, occasionally scratching the stubble on his chin. He wore a simple black tunic and loose, sturdy pants cuffed at knee length. The other individual present was poking at a fire pit in the center of the encampment. With a wave of his hand, the logs in the pit started to smoke and pop. When he turned around to greet the two, he met the adventurer with piercing red eyes and a sharp, fanged smile. 

These three strange humans ( _?_ ) warmly welcomed our protagonist to sit with them by the roaring fire, quickly bonding with their new friend through their shared curiosity towards magic and science alike. 

The adventurer quickly realized that this scrappy group was _smart_. The fair-haired man had, early on, taken a particular interest in the communication device strung to the adventurer’s belt. It was, after all, a rare embodiment of the strange mix of tech and the arcane. Even more extraordinary was the fact that it was still applicable and functional to this day. 

After passing the communication device around the fire—and letting everyone take their turn to poke and prod at the circular bronze device—the three of them had, separately, figured out how the device worked, what it was made of, and how to make new comms with the materials that could be salvaged from any ruin or scrapyard. 

By the time our glasses-wearing protagonist and his whale took to the skies, away from the island, all three of his new friends already had built communicators and linked to his own. Thus, the small network of people more from 2 to 5. 

(The necromancer took quite a liking to the new life that was brought into this group of sorts. She especially loved having in-depth discussions of magic with the red-eyed man, who later revealed himself to be fae, with the ability to control heat.)

(The adventurer could only pretend to understand those conversations, and pray that whatever they were planning to do wouldn’t bring too much entropy to the universe.)

The adventurer’s wandering brought him next to a castle surrounded by a sprawling town filled with twisting alleys and dirty cobble streets. It only took one look to perceive that those who inhabited the island had fallen on hard times. An air of gloom weighed heavily on the town. 

After leaving his whale friend to roam the skies near the island, the wanderer cautiously approached a crumbling city gate being guarded by two humanoid figures in heavy plate armor, armed with a sword at each of their hips. He was merely a few steps away from the gate when he was met with two blade tips pressed to his jugular. 

After being thoroughly searched and questioned by the guards, the dark-haired man learned that this island and the city, specifically, had taken a downturn in the past few years. Overpopulation was hitting the town hard, and the added hardships of a poor harvest for the last few years due to overfarming was the point of no return to the city and its citizens. The ruling class had long fled, and now only those too poor to leave were left to keep a city afloat. Now, one of the knights claimed, you either found a way to escape or you perished alongside the town, either from sickness, starvation, or the abundance of thieves and looters that ran through the streets.

This was a fate that was common amongst cities—their plentifulness became their folly. A settlement outgrowing its host island and collapsing from the inside is a phenomenon that our adventurer was much too familiar with and had much empathy for. So, he made an offer: in exchange for companionship and a few days’ worths of rations, he’d help the two weary soldiers start a new life somewhere far, far away. 

After much debate between the two soldiers (as well as a few thinly veiled threats directed towards the wanderer), they led the visitor to a small, dusty yet somehow homely inn. In exchange for the soldier’s stories, the adventurer shared his under the dim glow of candlelight.

The adventurer had once hailed from a city, not unlike the current surroundings. There, he was a bard, a silver-tongued poet whose words and melodies could sway even the most coldhearted of the aristocracy. Unfortunately, as the city fell into decline and those with the money to patronize such art fled, the poet found that he could no longer live off his words in such an environment. One night, he left the island under a blanket of stars, and now, he was willing to help his two new acquaintances do the same, in exchange for companionship and a few extra hands to help advance the journey. 

The two armored individuals look at each other in silent contemplation, and one after the other, took off their helmets revealing the faces of a young blond woman and a brunette man with pointy ears. The elf stuck out his hand to shake, and thus, the deal was sealed. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was super fun to write, but I really lacked the motivation to ever start writing. I don't know if this is gonna get finished anytime soon, especially now that school has started, but I'd try my best!


End file.
